Fugitive: The Gaia Machine, #2

By V.M. Andrews

The terrifying journey continues

Now a fugitive, and in transit with a traumatized surrogate, Ophelia cannot rest, and she cannot go back. She can only go forward, to Paris, where she meets the leaders of the resistance and many more who want to destroy The Gaia Machine. She travels to an ancient part of Spain where she sees the full consequences of the surrogacy trade and experiences the horror of soaring temperatures and lack of water. Combined, these factors have made the people desperate. But desperation, she learns, is merely the beginning of a revolution.

Dive in and continue the journey …

• Language: English
• Publisher: Opal Tree Press
• Release date: May 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781739658113

V.M. Andrews

Despite being armed with science and business degrees, V.M. Andrews has always known that her true passion is creative writing. She has often been told this makes her a ‘well-rounded individual’ which she interprets as ‘boring’ so she lives vicariously through her characters. The key themes explored in her books are artificial intelligence, genetic engineering, climate change and reproductive technologies. Her narrative is fast-paced and imaginative with surprising plot twists and character epiphanies.

Book preview

Chapter 1 - In transit

It had never occurred to Ophelia that the hyper-loop tube would be made from a transparent substance. Looking at the surrounding ocean, she felt both awe and terror in equal measure.

‘Isn’t this incredible?’ she said.

Nina’s eyes were open but so dull, Ophelia felt certain the young woman had no awareness of her surroundings.

‘Are you okay, Nina?’ she asked.

‘Mm.’

Ophelia gazed up at the surface of the water, drawing a sense of safety from the faint glow of sunlight breaking through. Straight ahead, the water was a deep shade of turquoise. And below, she did not want to know.

To the right, a dark object moved toward her pod, bringing with it a high-pitched whine. She had heard about the ocean drones that mined the seabeds for sunken space junk, so why this one was speeding alongside her, she could not imagine.

Almost within touching distance, the spherical black drone turned one of its large round cameras toward her. Like the eye of a whale, it rolled around, studying her. But unlike the eye of a whale, it suddenly became a bright spotlight. So bright, Ophelia had to squint and turn away.

‘Nasty,’ she muttered.

‘Surveillance drone,’ Nina replied.

Seconds later, the pod was 100 meters above the ground, continuing its journey through the transparent hyper-loop along the French mainland. To the right, Ophelia saw uniform rows of solar panels all the way to the horizon line. And to her left, she saw a vast field of emerald green crop. The large leafy plants were in a pattern so regular and unchanging, they reminded her of pieces on a chess board.

Nina rubbed her eyes and glanced at Ophelia.

‘You are very pretty,’ she said.

Ophelia laughed.

‘Are you feeling better?’ she asked.

‘Not really,’ Nina replied, gazing at the landscape.

Ophelia could not imagine how Nina was processing the awful experience she had just survived in the so-called Birthing Suite. But one way or another, she told herself, things had to get better.

The pod arrived at the end of the hyper-loop with a gentle hiss.

‘I guess this is Paris,’ said Ophelia. ‘I hope it’s nice.’

‘I just want to go home,’ Nina whined.

Ophelia could fully understand Nina’s feelings and she wanted to help, but she had no idea if she would even make it through the security gates at the far end of the platform.

‘I need to contact someone first,’ she said.

Nina stood up, then winced in pain and clutched her belly.

‘I want my Madre,’ she cried.

‘I know, honey,’ said Ophelia, helping her out of the pod.

She brought Nina to a hover-chair and lowered her into it. The arms of the chair wrapped around the young woman then fastened with a satisfying click. Ophelia guided the chair along the platform, telling herself she had to be brave, even though she needed someone to be brave for her.

She wished Martin was by her side, cool and confident and telling her everything would be fine. That wish, fleeting though it was, evoked in Ophelia a deep sense of longing and regret. Despite their differences, they belonged together. She knew it now. She also knew the only way to honor him was to do as he had asked, and contact Emilie and Philippe Trudeau immediately. But there was no comms signal.

‘Are you awake?’ Ophelia asked, but Nina did not reply.

The transparent roof in the station permitted so much sunlight, the platforms seemed to glow. A bot whistled, loud and high, sending a jolt of pain through Ophelia’s ears. Even then, Nina did not awaken.

‘Are you okay, Nina?’ she asked.

‘Mm.’

The closer they got to the security gate, the more Ophelia’s hands and feet were sweating. Her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry. She was terrified of being arrested and thrown in prison.

She gently shook Nina’s shoulder.

‘Mm?’

‘We’re going through security, now,’ Ophelia said.

Then she watched, helpless and terrified, as Nina glided onto the security pad. A human-shaped bot stood on the far side of the pad, watching Nina, as the scanner’s steel arms wrap around her and her chair. Ophelia could see the bright turquoise light and she could hear the gentle hum of the machine.

A moment later, the scanning stopped and the steel arms opened.

‘You are cleared for exit, Mademoiselle Garcia,’ said the bot.

Then it looked directly at Ophelia.

‘Madame, please step onto the scanning pad,’ it said.

As the huge steel arms folded around Ophelia, she took in a deep breath. The turquoise light spiraled around her body, up and down several times. The arms were so close to her face, she could see the tiny holes inside them, allowing the turquoise light to exit, like the rays of sunshine bursting through a cloud.

Ophelia tried to relax by imagining herself lying in a field of flowers under the soft evening light. It was a visualization technique Gaia had offered many times and it had never worked. But somehow, it was helping, now. Ophelia felt herself surrender to the scanner, the bot, the noisy environment and whatever may happen next. Before she knew it, the light of the scanner went out and the humming stopped. The scan was over but the arms did not open.

The bot stared at Ophelia.

‘You are not recognized as a citizen of France,’ it said.

‘I understand,’ said Ophelia. ‘This is an unplanned visit.’

‘What is the nature of your visit?’ asked the bot.

‘I am the carer for Mademoiselle Garcia,’ Ophelia replied, nodding in Nina’s direction.

Her young friend scowled at her.

‘There were serious complications with Mademoiselle Garcia’s delivery so I need to care for her while I escort her home to her family,’ Ophelia explained.

The bot looked at Nina, then returned its gaze to Ophelia.

‘You are not recognized on the northern register, either,’ it said.

Ophelia silently marveled at Martin’s ability to have erased her existence from The Gaia Machine’s memory, but she had to come up with an explanation for it.

‘There must be a mistake,’ she said. ‘Please let me through. I am on a mission of mercy.’

The bot looked at Nina, a lonely lump among a crowd.

‘Wait here,’ it said.

Ophelia watched the bot’s easy locomotion toward a human guard. He was leaning against the wall, staring into the distance and tapping the weapon on his waistband with his forefinger. He barely acknowledged the bot when it spoke to him. But when it pointed at Ophelia, he locked eyes with her and swaggered toward her.

‘What is your situation, Madame?’ he asked.

‘I don’t have a permit due to the urgency of the situation,’ Ophelia replied. ‘Mademoiselle Garcia, a surrogate, gave birth only an hour ago and—’

Nina started to cry.

‘Open the machine,’ the guard said to the bot.

‘Thank you,’ said Ophelia, stepping out.

She rolled her shoulders.

‘There were serious complications with Mademoiselle Garcia’s delivery, so I was instructed to escort her home,’ she said.

The guard turned toward Nina.

‘Where is your home?’ he asked.

‘El Serrallo, Spain,’ Nina replied.

He gave her a gentle smile.

‘Both of you, come this way,’ he said.

As they followed the guard, Ophelia dared to hope he might lead them to the exit, and they would be free. Instead, he beckoned them away from the main concourse to a small space between two platforms. A second guard joined them then activated a transparent shield around the four of them.

‘Do not touch the shield or the alarm will sound,’ she said.

Ophelia had no choice but to stand uncomfortably close to the two guards. So close, she could smell the male guard’s lunch on his breath and the female guard’s perfume, mixed with her sweat, as it wafted up from her enormous cleavage. The male guard held a small scanner over Ophelia’s left eye, then checked the reading.

‘You are not recognized as a citizen of anywhere, as far as I can tell,’ he said. ‘Who are you?’

‘My name is Ophelia Alsop,’ she replied, hearing her voice waver. ‘I’ve been working with the surrogates for a few years.’

‘What is your place of work?’

‘London.’

‘What is your profession?’

‘Nurse.’

‘Where did you gain your nursing qualification?’ 

‘University of Oxford,’ she replied.

‘What is your date of birth?’

‘12 February 2092.’

The two guards looked at each other, obviously baffled.

‘It is highly unusual for anyone to arrive here without an entry permit,’ said the male guard.

‘I understand, but because of the nature of my work, there was no choice,’ Ophelia replied. ‘We were not expecting complications, but they arose, nevertheless.’

The female guard looked Ophelia up and down.

‘Why did you have to be the one to escort her, instead of someone with a proper entry permit?’ she asked.

‘We had a high number of births this morning,’ Ophelia replied. ‘There was no one else available, so I was instructed to escort Mademoiselle Garcia home. Please, let me take her to her family. I need to give them instructions for her care as soon as possible.’

For a woman so voraciously demanding of the truth, Ophelia was astonished by her prowess as a spontaneous and convincing liar.

‘Where are your possessions?’ the female guard asked Ophelia.

‘I have none,’ Ophelia replied. ‘There was no time to gather them.’

‘Remove that scarf from your head,’ said the guard.

Despite her previous satisfaction with the novelty of her bald head, Ophelia now felt embarrassed by it. To make it worse, the two guards stared at it with wide eyes.

‘I recently finished a course of chemotherapy that made my hair fall out,’ Ophelia explained. ‘Until it grows back, I’d like to keep this scarf on, if you don’t mind.’

‘Fine,’ said the female guard. ‘Open your arms and legs.’

Ophelia obliged. The guard’s hands moved up and down her limbs and torso then stopped when they reached her hips.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, retrieving Ophelia’s disc from her pocket.

‘It’s my only possession,’ Ophelia replied. ‘It contains just enough credit to get me onto a train with Mademoiselle Garcia and then back to London.’

The male guard scanned the disc.

‘She does have a small amount of credit,’ he said. ‘She also has the contact details of Emilie and Philippe Trudeau.’

He looked at Ophelia.

‘What is your relationship to them?’ he asked.

‘They are very distant cousins whom I can contact in an emergency, but I won’t need to. My mission is to get Mademoiselle Garcia home, then return to London immediately.’

The guards stared at Ophelia for several seconds during which time she somehow managed to resist the urge to blink, look away, fidget or wriggle about. The male guard finally opened his lop-sided mouth.

‘The best we can do under the circumstances is give you a high-risk entry permit for 24 hours,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ said Ophelia. ‘That will be very helpful, I’m sure.’

He held up his hand, silencing her.

‘The permit has to be inserted, subcutaneously, into your upper arm,’ he explained. ‘It will activate every scanning device across the mainland in precisely 24 hours if you have not returned to this station by then.’

Ophelia nodded.

‘Many of the scanning devices are hidden, and their locations are frequently changed,’ the female guard explained. ‘You will be taking a huge risk if you do not return to this station within 24 hours. You will find the punishment very harsh.’

‘I understand,’ Ophelia said.

‘She is unconscious,’ said the female guard, pointing at Nina. ‘A moment ago she was crying and now she is unconscious. What is wrong with her?’

Ophelia sighed.

‘It’s a common side effect of the medication we gave her,’ she replied. ‘Also, she was quite traumatized by the birth.’

‘Roll up your sleeve,’ said the guard.

‘Is this going to hurt?’ Ophelia asked.

The guard did not bother to answer the question. She simply located the soft, fleshy part of Ophelia's upper arm and pressed the tip of a small steel tube into it.

‘Fuck!’ Ophelia screamed as the device tore through her flesh.

The guard sniggered.

‘It is not pleasant, but you are cleared for exit,’ she said.

‘You better get moving,’ the male guard